Acts of Forgiveness
by Gary Boshears
Summary: WIP. All of chapter one now online. While Faith struggles with her inner-demons in prison, an assault begins by an evil force which the Slayer must combat to survive. PG-13 for right now, may change later. Please Read & REVIEW!
1. Prologue

Author's Note: On the setting of this story. It works best when thought of as an alternate version of the events of season seven that take place after the episode "Him". Meaning The First isn't around causing trouble although it isn't referenced. Alternatively, this novel could take place between "Him" and "Conversations With Dead People" although this story takes up three novels, two Buffy and one Angel and that may be a lot to happen in such a short period of time. Either way, sit back and enjoy.  
  
PROLOGUE: PASSIVE MEETINGS  
CALIFORNIA DEPARTMENT OF CORRECTIONS  
FEMALE MAXIMUM SECURITY FACILITY  
  
She could see no anxiety in him. Quite the contrary, he stood in front of her with every bit of confidence she would have expected from the most experienced of officers, a rarity among young people who were stepping into their first position at a correctional facility. Confidence was something everyone in this line of work needed but it could also be a crutch, if possessed in too great of quantities, she would have to teach him that. Confidence was what earned respect and allowed someone to successfully do a job, but a slight dose of fear and anxiety was what kept that same person going home alive everyday.  
  
It was only understandable that this young man would be somewhat cocky. Robert Bloodworth, the only son of the Los Angeles chief of police, who had just graduated from UCLA at the top of his class, a double major in criminal justice and psychology. The only reason he was not already working the streets of Los Angeles was that his father insisted he spend a year working in the prison system, to fully understand the results of the actions he would take upon becoming a police officer for the city.  
  
As she looked the crisp, tall, strong, young man with his baby blue eyes and dirty blonde hair over, Warden Cynthia Black remembered how hard she has fought to keep from having this young man assigned to her prison. It seemed however that Robert's father had more pull with the Governor than she as he had personally assigned him to her facility. For some reason she could not understand, this was the assignment the young man had wanted, probably for being so close to his family.  
  
"Well Mr. Bloodworth, everything you in your physical and psychological evaluations seem to be in order," the Warden snidely remarked, glaring into his unwavering eyes as she tapped her painted red plastic nails against the dark hardwood surface of her desk. He stood smugly in front of her with his arms crossed as she scanned his open personnel folder, which she had established earlier in the day. Though she had just met him, it was already painfully obvious they would not get along.  
  
"You expected something different?" He snapped back. Robert had heard stories about this place, about the warden. She was considered, throughout the state, to be as cold and calculating as they came and the appearance of the fifty-year-old woman, dressed in a black suit, black hair in a bun behind her head and a distinctive lack of makeup more than indicated this. Further adding to this was the appearance of her office. It was dark, dark wooden walls, dark carpet on the floors and heavy black curtains pulled over the one window in the room, directly behind her desk. "With all due respect Warden Black, you're not going to find anything in any of those evaluations that will give you a good excuse to not give me this job. Besides," he said with a derisive grin. "I don't think you have much of a choice in the matter."  
  
Not turning her eyes away from his, she slowly pressed the two ends of the file together, closing the manila folder and gently setting it down. Working in law enforcement for over thirty years had taught her many things, one of which was to hate people who thought they could tell her what to do. "The Governor told me to hire your Mr. Bloodworth," she slowly rose from her desk and approached him, a serpent, coiling and moving in on its prey before striking. "He never told me how long I had to keep you on my staff." Robert was taken aback by the comment; he had not expected such a deliberate attack from her. "If you don't do your job, and don't do it well," she circled the young man, keeping her eyes planted firmly upon him. "You're gone. If I get one bad report on you, you're gone. Remember," she said continued, finally completing her slow circle around him and again locking eyes with him, clear she had already taken him down a notch. "If you screw up here, you can kiss that job working the mean streets of Los Angeles goodbye."  
  
"Yes ma'am" he surrendered to the fact that, for the next year, this woman controlled his life. "I'll do my best Warden Black."  
  
"That's all I ask from any of my officers Mr. Bloodworth," she relaxed slightly, the frown disappearing as her expression became the definition of neutral, they were now beginning to understand each other. "I've assigned you to housing unit number fifty-six," she continued. "One of the violent offender units in this facility, we just had someone transfer out of there and I think it will be a good place for you to get your feet wet."  
  
"Putting me in with the bad girls warden?" The grin that she already hated returned to his face. It was clear Robert was aching to jump into some action, put the exercise routines he had religiously practiced throughout high school and college to good use. "Hope you're not trying to get me hurt or anything, the Governor might not appreciate it."  
  
The smug attitude that Warden Black could not tolerate was beginning to show through again. Maybe they weren't beginning to understand each other as much as it seemed only a few seconds before. "Hardly Mr. Bloodworth," she said in her cold emotionless tone, determined to not allow this young man the pleasure of knowing the situation bothered her and further determined to prove she was in control. "Most of the women in this facility want nothing more than to quietly serve their debt to society until they can return to it. We try to maintain a peaceful atmosphere, which is why any disruption is met with a quick, decisive and overwhelming response. As a member of my staff, you will be expected to help maintain that atmosphere using a firm, fair and consistent approach, only resorting to physical measures as a last resort and never instigating any problems."  
  
Warden Black began walking to the door on the other side of her office, opposite the desk. "If you'll follow me, Officer Bloodworth," she put particular emphasis on the word, indicating she now considered him to be part of her staff. "I'll give you a tour of the unit and introduce you to your immediate supervisor."  
  
He followed her through a series of gray hallways, moving through doors that automatically opened as she approached. No marvel of technology Bloodworth realized, simply people in an electronic control room, following their movements and opening the electronic locks as they approached. Working inmates, dressed in white uniforms with numbers printed across the chest of the left hand side, that cleaned the halls, delivered mail and other such activities looked up as she walked by but did not dare to say anything to her, especially not when she was in the presence of another officer. Robert took note of the expressions on the women's faces, they were broken people, mere shards of their former selves.  
  
"The ones that are minimum security and have good behavior reports from their units are given the opportunity to earn jobs in the facility," she explained, talking about the women like they were not there and telling Robert nothing he did not already know. "It gives them a productive means of spending their time and is a good thing to have on their record when they go before the parole board."  
  
Following approximately five minutes of walking, they approached another gray door with a white '56' painted on the wall next to it in block lettering. The electronic locked whirled as it opened, the warden pulled on the brass colored metal door handle and stepped inside, Bloodworth slowly, reluctantly almost, following behind her. They stepped onto a metal gantry overlooking a large open area. Below him, Bloodworth observed much of what he had from the working inmates in the halls. Though these prisoners milled about, some playing cards, others watching TV, some using exercise equipment and others simply standing about talking amongst their own clicks, it was clear that they as well were broken.  
  
"There are ninety-six offenders housed on this unit," Warden Black wasted no time in skipping to the cold, impersonal statistics about his first assignment while Robert could do nothing but stare at their faces, seeing no fire, no life in them, astonished that something so simple as stone and steel could do that to a person. "All for violent crimes and most serving minimum ten year sentences."  
  
"Any problems I need to be aware of?" Warden Black shot him a look that caused him to quickly rethink his choice of words. "Potential problems I need to be aware of?" He raised his eyebrow as he responded, a silent request for her approval of his new way of wording the question. Though, in actuality, he could care less about this job, he did know he needed to stay on her good side during this next year.  
  
"Just one," the warden remarked, grinding to a halt above the exercise area. She slowly extended a hand, gesturing with her index finger to a woman vigorously attacking a punching bag. Bloodworth looked down at her. From the angle, he could see her face and look directly into her eyes. As she ferociously through punch after punch at the swinging bag, he saw something in her he did not see in any of the others. There was a fire about her, a strength that preserved her will and her spirit. "She's in for murder, I'm sure she was involved in more than we know of. She's unnaturally strong for such a little thing, probably a result of being a member of one of those Los Angeles street gangs."  
  
"Which one?" Bloodworth cautiously asked, making sure not to overstep his bounds. Having grown up in Los Angeles with a police officer for a father, Robert knew a thing or two about the gangs that populated its streets. Though it was certainly possible, he could not picture the girl in any of them. People who joined those gangs were lost, people without purpose who sought acceptance and he could not picture this women being a person like that. He could see too much inner strength within her.  
  
"Never heard of it but I'm guessing a group of murderers. We tape record the conversations she has with visitors and sometimes, I've heard people call her a slayer. Sounds like a vicious group to me, makes me kind of surprised that we only have one in her." She looked back to Bloodworth, his expression betraying that he was finding her story less than believable. "One that we know of at least, it's difficult to tell which gang these women might belong to."  
  
"There is no gang called 'Slayers'," Bloodworth was quick to point out. It was possible he had never heard of that particular gang but he somehow doubted that as a real possibility. "Not that I've ever heard of at least, suppose I could be wrong, you know, having lived in Los Angeles my whole life."  
  
"Shall we continue." Though phrased as a question, the command was not disguised well. They moved on across the gantry, Bloodworth taking a final look at the young woman as they walked past. She was so different from the others, had so much life in her. Yet, at the same time, he could see something dark in her eyes. It was hard to tell what it was but it was obvious that something deeply haunted this young woman.  
  
"What's her name?" Something about his voice disconcerted the warden when Robert asked her the simple question. It was not uncommon to want to know the names of offenders one would have to deal with but his tone suggested something almost emotional, a definite weakness for dealing with these types of people.  
  
"Who?" Black asked to confirm her suspicions.  
  
"The 'Slayer'." He mocked what he thought to be her lack of knowledge with his response.  
  
"Oddly enough," the warden answered with a heavy sigh. "Faith."  
  
***  
  
Time seemed to slow with each successive punch she threw. As time slowed, she became less aware of her surroundings and more aware of her inner thoughts and dilemmas. This was her way of closing herself off to the outside world and focusing on what she needed to focus on. With each punch, a flood of memories came to her, Buffy, Angel and everything else that ever made a difference in her life. She missed them both terribly. Angel she saw frequently but there was something that a conversation on a phone between glass could not achieve. Buffy, she missed more than Angel and in such different ways. It had been years since she had last seen her fellow slayer, the one person she thought could truly understand her, and the person she had once thought of as a sister.  
  
The intensity of her blows increased as memories and thoughts flooded to her, breaking past the walls she had so painstakingly established. Though the pain of missing the two of them was great, it in no way compared with the pains of knowing what she had done to them, Buffy in particular. Buffy had trusted her, more than she had ever allowed anyone to trust her before and she turned that trust into a knife to stab her in the back with. Angel had told her once that acknowledging and facing your sins was the first step to redemption and she considered that to be the point of this exercise.  
  
She knew it would be a long time before they met again but she hoped Buffy would be able to forgive her, she hoped she would be strong enough to earn that forgiveness. She closed her eyes, as the punches became faster and stronger striking at the very demons that haunted her soul. She knew it would take a long time, it already had but, for the first time in many years, she was resolved to change, change what she had become after joining forces with the mayor and change what she had always been.   
  
In many ways, she didn't expect Buffy to forgive her and in many more ways, she didn't want Buffy to forgive her. It would make everything so much easier for Buffy to simply keep hating her, despite her efforts to redeem herself. If Buffy didn't decide to give her another chance, everything would be so much easier. She knew if Buffy did forgive her, that would only be square one, she would have to work harder than ever to rebuild the trust she had so carelessly thrown away.  
  
Still, she had to try. This was clear to her everyday as she went through the ritual of pounding on this bag and forcing her long buried thoughts out, to the point her fists hurt and she had conquered another obstacle in becoming the person she wanted to be. The person she had to be but not just for Buffy, Angel or the others but also for herself more than anyone else. She continued her attack against the punching bag with an unrelenting fury only a slayer could muster. She still did not feel worthy of such a title but knew it belonged to her whether she accepted it or not.  
  
Her attack ended as she the last series of blows drew blood from her fists and caused the bag to fly off the chain holding it to the metal support beam above. Faith breathed deeply, the workout was more exerting that she was used to, both the physical and mental aspects of it. She was tired but knew her strength would return in time and she would return to these exercises. Bending over at the waste and placing her hands on her knees, she gasped for air. Though she had kept a strict physical conditioning routine while in prison, she knew punching bags, lifting weights, running and jump ropes could only do so much. Her strengths were wasted on such pursuits; they were not what she was built for. Suddenly, still begging for air, her instincts came alive; she felt a threat upon her.  
  
"Don't waste it all on the bag bitch," the woman said harshly as she approached Faith, a long piece of pipe in her hand. She knew the woman, Sandra Williams, part of a local group that didn't care much for Faith, probably because she refused to help in their little quarrels with another local group. Since she had turned down their "gracious invitation", it seemed as though they had been out to get her, conducting little acts of mischief against her but they had never gone so far as to make an attempt on her in this manner.  
  
She did not move as the woman neared, not wanting to betray that she had noticed her approach well before she had so carelessly given it away. The woman stood over her, two others standing behind, likely there for backup, and brought the pipe back, preparing to deliver a blow to Faith's head. The slayer reacted, with one quick motion, springing to a fully erect position, moving her open hand, striking the weapon loose from her attacker, grasping her wrist and twisting her arm backwards. Something inside of her swelled when hearing the crack of the attacker's bone as she bent her arm in an unnatural way at the elbow.   
  
Williams fell back in pain, screaming as she grasped her elbow, the bone protruding outward from the skin. Faith advanced, old instincts overpowering her. She brought her other hand back, realizing how easy it would be to drive her fist into Sandra's nose, sending a bone spearing through her brain, killing her in an instant. She restrained, fighting back the instinct to kill, knowing she would only harm herself in doing so. She struck her in the chest, sending her sliding across the floor. Though it had happened before, on other attempts on her life while in prison, it always seemed surreal to Faith when she exercised control enough to not kill the attacker. It always made part of the pain go away.  
  
She stood, having barely broken a sweat in the quick fight, another small part of the pain lifted from her mind, realizing that the pain was only about to begin. She felt the sudden painful strike of a hard metal object on the back of both of her knees, sending her toppling to the ground.   
  
Eight guards surrounded her, long batons in their hands. They delivered a painful series of strikes to her legs, knees, back and one to her neck, doing what they could to subdue her. Having experienced this before, she knew that the guards took no chances with her. Though the blows did little to weaken her, she pretended they had more an effect than they truly did. She knew that she could easily escape this circle of men and women, who brutally struck her, easily defeat and kill them all but doing so would only cause her greater pain. She let her arms go limp, allowing them to be pulled behind her back and slapped violently into handcuffs, knowing they could not hold her if she did not want them to.  
  
They pulled her to her feet using the chain of the handcuffs to lift her. Her brown hair fell across her face, partly obscuring her view though not enough to prevent her from seeing the warden approaching with a young man in tow behind her. She did not pay any attention to the warden as the cold-hearted woman looked over her beaten body as the guards tightly held her, presenting the young woman to their master. Instead, she looked at the young man standing behind her. A new guard she imagined but he was different from the others. His very appearance, dressed in a tan shirt and blue jeans that accented his features, portrayed the strength of his inner confidence. It was something she did not normally see with the guards at this facility, they were slaves to their jobs but this man was stronger than that.  
  
"We've talked about all this fighting Faith," the warden scolded her, looking down on the young girl, seeing her as an ant that needed to be crushed and crushed quickly. "I should file charges on you for so badly injuring that woman. It's amazing you didn't kill her."  
  
"Nothin' amazing about it," Faith scoffed back. She could have killed Sandra, easily had she wanted to, just as she could easily kill the warden right now but it would do nothing for her. "She started it, not me," Faith gestured with her head to the attacker, who still lay on the ground, surrounded by guards and two medical personnel who had arrived. With her sudden movement of her head, the guard holding her cuffs tensed, fearing she was about to try something and causing Faith to relax again.  
  
"You're a troublemaker young lady," the warden's voice dripped with pure hatred for the young woman. Faith had been a resident of her prison for over three years and no matter what she had tried, she could do nothing to break the spirit of this fiery young woman. "You should have been sentenced to death for your crimes," Faith could not deny she should have died, but not for what the warden spoke of. "But instead they send you to my prison to cause trouble, well I've had enough of it young lady."  
  
Before Faith could issue any form of protest, the young man standing behind the warden approached her and spoke up. "Warden Black, Faith is right, she didn't start that fight, she was attacked, defended herself." She shot the young man a stare that made the one given to Faith look like a friendly gesture. He backed down, causing the warden's stuff, unrelenting and callous gaze to return to the restrained woman being held in front of her.  
  
"Nevertheless, Faith is an instigator and I will have no more of it in my facility," she looked up to one of the guards, a sergeant, supervisor for the shift that was currently on duty. "Take her to isolation, fifteen days for instigating a disturbance and thirty additional days for seriously injuring another offender." Faith did not struggle as the two guards dragged her away by the arms, she realized it would do nothing for her.  
Warden Black returned to standing beside Bloodworth, giving him a glance that expressed more disapproval with his actions than words could have. Seeing her clear anger with him, he decided to push the envelope, always one to challenge what he did not believe to be right.   
"A little excessive punishment don't you think?" He spoke confidently, causing further rage to build in the warden.  
  
She suppressed it however. "An overwhelming response Officer Bloodworth," she stated, rather than telling him she would not tolerate such insolence from her staff. "Let us continue." She would deal with the young man's attitude later, simply counting this as the first strike again him. They walked away but Robert turned his head over his shoulder, stealing a last glance at Faith as she was taken away and realizing she was doing the same.  
  
***  
  
Faith lay still on her bunk, legs covered by a wool blanket; her hands extended above her, one grasping a notepad, the other a pencil. She had started this letter more than a year ago, it was in something of a continually evolving state as she added, detracted and totally revised parts of it. No words could truly express what she wanted to, the real reason she had yet to send this letter. How could words express the pain she felt? How could words apologize for what she had done? Still, it was another step on what Angel had called her road to redemption. She didn't expect forgiveness but it was still something she had to do.  
  
Footsteps echoed through the corridor behind her six by eight cell. The front wall of the cell was where the metal door was located with bars on the rear end of the cell where the guards would observe prisoners during their routine security checks. They came by approximately once every hour shining flashlights in the cells with occupants to make sure no one had harmed herself or, in cases of some guards, to perhaps catch a glimpse of someone exiting the shower. The noise and intrusion did not bother Faith as it once had; she had grown accustomed to it over time. Her eyes did not deviate from her letter as the footsteps drew closer.  
  
Rather than proceeding past her cell however, the footsteps stopped and she could feel the presence of someone standing over her on the other side of the bars. With fluidity, she sat up, tossing the blanket aside, setting the notepad on the bunk and sliding off to her feet, turning to face the guard. She took notice, as she slowly turned that, unlike most guards, whoever this one was did not have a fancy with shining a flashlight in the cell and did not seem to scare away from her like most did when she moved to confront their unwelcome interruption.  
  
Expecting to see another one of the fat, middle-aged male guards who liked to stop and ogle her, she was surprised to see the young man who had been walking with the warden earlier. Not in civilian clothes this time, he was dressed in a well-fitting prison guard uniform. He stood in front of her with a blank expression on his face as he looked into her eyes and as she looked back into his.   
  
"What?" She asked, an annoyed tone to her voice as she broke the uneasy silence between them, placing her hands on her waste, shifting her weight to her left foot. Though it was more welcome than seeing the usual guards stopping at her cell, it was still something she did not appreciate, wanting to be left alone.  
  
"I, uh," he stuttered. Before coming to see her, the words he wanted to say were right on his mind but now he had drawn a blank. Seeing her before, when a full prison uniform covered her figure, he was not able to full contemplate how beautiful this young woman was. As she stood before him now, a white tank top and white boxer shorts her only clothing, he was able to realize the fact. Faith was simply gorgeous. Her body was well toned, more than he could have ever hoped for with his and graceful at the same time. Her skin was a perfect color, despite the years of prison life, her legs were smooth, her body strong and, he could not help but notice her ample breasts as they perked through the thin white fabric.  
  
"You, uh, what?" Faith snapped with her voice and with a sudden gesture of her hands. "Came to get a thank you for sticking up for me?" As she felt his eyes upon her body, she could only imagine what kind of thank you he had in mind, like he had a chance. "Sorry babe, not that kind of girl," she followed, testing the water. Seeing no definite reaction, she continued along another line. "Lot of good it did anyways."  
  
"That's not why I came," Robert managed, his thoughts returning to the reasons he was here. Though his mind was back on his purpose, he could still not pull his eyes away from her, still could not believe how truly beautiful she was.  
  
"Just came for a peak at the goods then?" Faith, frustrated with the lack of any progress on getting him to leave, pressed for an answer.  
  
"That's not it either," he shook his head, his resolve returning as his eyes locked back with Faith's. He could see the inner fire in them, covered by dark shadows of the past. "I just, wanted to meet you." His voice was soft but strong, calming to Faith as it flowed into her ears. "You seemed so much different then, well, everybody."  
  
Faith cocked her head. She didn't know how to respond to him, not remembering the last time someone had just wanted to say hello that wasn't trying to get into her pants. "Well, you've met me. Bye," she said with a playful waving of four fingers.  
  
Robert turned away, realizing he was getting nowhere and began to walk off. Faith leaned forward, resting her hands on the bars, shifting her weight to them, remaining silent for a moment as she watched him begin disappear into the darkness. She began to question why she had been so hostile towards him; he had done nothing to her. "Wait." She said, beckoning him to return. He slowly pivoted and in front of her cell once again. "I'm sorry," she said, hanging her head low, the aggressive, distant attitude from seconds earlier vanishing.  
  
"You don't have to be," Robert quickly answered. "You have no reason to trust me, like me or be kind to me."  
  
"Yeah, well, there was also no reason for me to throw my anger out at you," Faith admitted.  
  
"And where does that anger come from Faith?" He exploited the opportunity he was looking for. When he came here, he wanted to meet this young woman but he also wanted to get to know her. He wanted to learn whatever it was that gave this young woman the unfaltering strength he saw, both physical and mental. As such, he also wanted to learn the source of the clouds that obscured that strength.  
  
"That's a very long story," she said softly. Robert bent down; looking at her face, seeing that she was clearly fighting to hold back tears. Despite her obvious strengths, he could tell, on the inside, there was a real person, with real emotions, fighting to be let loose. Maybe, all she needed was for someone to listen to her.  
  
"Well, maybe you can tell me about it sometime."  
  
"Maybe," Faith fought the idea at first but quickly gave in. She nodded, moving her eyes up his body, back to his face. "I think, I'd like that." Robert nodded as well, he extended his hand, wanting to touch hers to provide some comfort but fought the urge. When he did so, he received a quizzical glance from her, indicating how long it had been since she had any real human contact. He knew the line between appropriate and inappropriate behavior however and knew he was walking it as it was.  
  
"See you around Faith," he walked into the darkness. Faith lay back down on her bunk, watching as different guards passed by every hour throughout the night. Her slayer powers and conditioning had often allowed her to stay awake for days but the beating she had received earlier took much of the strength from her, the flaring emotions taking the rest. She finally plunged into sleep, realizing she hadn't even gotten the name of the new guard.  
  
SUNNYDALE, CALIFORNIA  
EIGHT MONTHS LATER  
  
"You think this is lame?" Buffy Summers, setting her eggplant sandwich down on the paper plate, could read the expression on her little sister's face far too well. As the two of them sat on a blanket, atop a grassy hill, underneath a tree covered in thick leaves with a picnic basket their only other companion, Buffy could not help but admit that it was indeed a little bit lame. They needed to spend some time together, just the two of them that didn't involve patrolling cemeteries for demonic fiends and, the idea of a picnic on a sunny afternoon was the only thing she could devise that seemed quiet enough for the two of them to talk, despite a planning session with Xander and Willow to help her think of ideas.  
  
"No, no," Dawn quickly countered, her voice slightly less than truthful. "I don't mind the whole, sister bonding thing," Dawn, most of the time, enjoyed the opportunities she had to spend with her older sister. This attempt however seemed to her to be more out of pity than out of true desire to spend time together. "I just don't see why we have to do it on a Saturday afternoon with eggplant and salami peanut butter sandwiches rather than doing it on a beach in Mexico." Dawn hid the roots of her displeasure with this picnic for long enough, finally bringing them to the light.  
  
"Dawnie, I told you," Buffy slipped into her authority voice, having had this conversation with Dawn many times during the past week. "This vacation is for me. For Buffy," she said, emphasizing a point she had already made with Dawn many times. "With everything that has happened this past year, Willow, Spike getting his soul back, I, I just need some time to clear my head. I mean, I think Regan was in office the last time I had a real vacation and that was way before I had the duties of the chosen one on my shoulders." Seeing the frown that had crept back onto her little sister's face, Buffy knew it was time to lighten the mood. "Besides, I figured with big sis' out of the way for three days, you and Will would be having all sorts of wild parties at the house."  
  
"Oh yeah," Dawn responded condescendingly. "We're going to call up all the girls and have a big lesbian, witch, sex and magic romp." Dawn realized, immediately after that she had just opened up her mouth and inserted her foot. She didn't mean to insult Willow in such a way, she was simply frustrated with the situation. "Sorry, I didn't mean it. I guess I'm just worried."  
  
Buffy narrowed her eyebrows in disapproval. "And Xander is going to check on you everyday," she decided to skip past scolding Dawn for the comment, seeing she regretted what she had said. Anya will be around, whatever kind of comfort that is," since Anya's return to being a vengeance demon and subsequent return to being a human Buffy was still be cautious with her, not sure if her recent dance with evil would leave any permanent effects. "And you know how to get in touch with Spike if anything happens, he's promised to watch out for you."  
  
"Oh yeah, Spike is real close to sane lately."  
  
"He's been doing a lot better since he moved in with Xander, almost stopped talking to imaginary people entirely." Buffy tried to make light of the situation. In reality, this was probably the worst time for her to be leaving, with the pending 'big bad' and the festering hell mouth beneath her. On the plus side, demon and vampire activity for the past couple weeks had significantly lessened, prompting the slayer's sudden decision to take a quick vacation.  
  
"And what about the big, scary, super bad evil we know is coming?" Dawn wasn't searching for excuses for Buffy not to go, merely excuses for her to go along.  
  
Buffy gave in, deciding to give Dawn the real explanation for why she was taking a sudden, yet short vacation to Mexico. "I think that's why I need these few days Dawnie. I need some time to clear my head before having to take on the newest big bad. For over six years, I've done nothing but fight evil. I just want three days where I can lie in the sun, read a book, listen to music and drink a margarita without having to worry about vampires or demons."  
  
The setting sun cast brilliant orange and red hues on the faces of the two fair skinned young women, reflecting off their hair. Dawn came to an understanding about why her sister needed the time to herself. Six years of being the chosen one would make anyone hungry for a vacation and Buffy's three-month sabbatical to Los Angeles one summer was hardly worthy of being called a vacation. Dawn smirked. "You mean to tell me when Faith was here, you never took a couple days off?"  
  
Though Dawn did not realize it, the comment intended as pure fun, she had again stuck her proverbial foot in her mouth. She knew Faith was a touchy subject with Buffy but after years of not talking about it, she figured Buffy would have gotten past some of the pains Faith had caused her. "No," Buffy answered. "Never had time. Faith was still adjusting when she first showed up and then, then everything went wrong."  
  
"Sorry," Dawn saw the look on her sister's face and knew she shouldn't have made that comment. "Shouldn't have brought that up," getting no response from Buffy, Dawn continued, trying to cheer her sister with the bubbly little sister attitude that always seemed to provoke a smile from Buffy. "Yep, open mouth, insert foot," she said, making little motions symbolizing the actions.  
  
"It's all right Dawnie," Buffy remarked, a little smile creeping its way onto her red lips as the setting sun stained them. "It's just, thinking about Faith," Buffy tried to fight back emotions, not wanting Dawn to see how fresh many of the wounds still were. "Thinking about Faith makes me think about, other things." She hesitated. "Angel."  
  
"You still miss him don't you?" Dawn asked, placing a comforting hand across her sister's shoulder.  
  
Buffy sighed deeply and nodded. It was a subject she and Dawn had never talked about much and she did not understand why, who can understand her better than Dawn. "More than I've ever missed anything in my entire life. More than I think I could ever miss anything. The worst thing is, there's times when Spike reminds me so much of Angel that I almost forget." She pulled herself out of the emotional tailspin and attempted to lighten the suddenly somber mood of the conversation. "Then there's the times Spike does things that I know Angel would kill him for." She said with a bright smile on her face, despite the seriousness of the comment.  
  
The two sisters continued to talk until the sun had set when they collected their picnic basket, blanket and other items. Buffy drove them home where Dawn spent the evening watching movies on TV and Buffy packed for her early morning departure to Mexico.   
Outside the home, a figure stood in the shadows, watching their movements. He had been watching them since the quaint little bonding ritual began. The sun had been painful, causing smoke to rise from his body but it was pain he had learned to tolerate over time. As he watched the two women in the house, he focused on Dawn; so innocent, so full of life and such easy prey. Once the slayer was away, the attack would begin. He remained resolute, standing totally still as cars passed and as the slayer and her sister eventually retired to their beds. He then began strolling down the road. There was much preparation left to be done. 


	2. Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE: FATEFUL ENCOUNTER  
CALIFORNIA DEPARTMENT OF CORRECTIONS  
FEMALE MAXIMUM SECURITY FACILITY  
TWO DAYS EARLIER  
  
Primal instincts, instincts of a hunter, overwhelmed him. Stalking through the dimly lit gray hallways, all he could feel was the thrill of the hunt, the thrill of maneuvering in for an easy kill. He could all but feel his teeth imbedded in her soft flesh, could almost taste her blood flowing into his mouth. He was now very close. His target would never see him coming, would never know what it was that killed her or understand the great purpose she was part of.  
  
Seeing the number '56' painted on the drab wall in front of him, he knew this was the place where his victim waited. He crouched down next to the large circular locking mechanism where an oversized key would fit; retrieving two long, thin pieces of metal from an inner pocket of his black jacket. Delicately poking and twisting with the two picks, the lock soon turned to his desire, allowing him to pass, undetected, through the secure door and into the facility.  
  
He stayed low, beneath the lazy eyes of the guards as he maneuvered with all stealth he could manage across the gantry above the main common room. The room was closed at this time of the night, all prisoners having been locked away into their housing units for the night. The darkened common room that connected to these units would give the perfect cover for his approach. He watched the three guards who were on the gantry with him, waiting until their backs were turned before he vaulted over the metal railing.  
  
Landing on his feet, he stayed low to the ground. The barely audible sound his landing made went unnoticed by the guards, who continued walking their short patrol paths throughout the unit. Staying close to the wall, hiding from the nightlights in whatever shadows were available, he approached another large metal door with a square window in the center. He grasped the metal handle, tuning his senses to be sure none of the guards were alert enough to take notice of his next action. He pulled firmly on the handle; breaking the lock on the door and sliding it open, enough for him to slip inside through the crack, hoping the guards would not notice the door being only partially open.  
  
Walking through the cell, he began to scan the dark blue colored bunks. There were eighteen in all, nine sets of bunks with a second bunk stacked on top of each. He looked carefully at the sleeping individual occupying each. The face of his target had been burned into his memory and he had to resist the urge calling for him to sample the other women as he passed by them, eyes focused on the beating vein in their necks. Any indulgence now would only cost them months worth of preparation and would see his quick death at the hands of his master.  
  
On the top bunk furthest from the cell door, he finally located his prey. He had never been told her name, for it did not matter, he had only memorized her face, preparing for this moment. Using the bottom bunk to give himself the needed stature, he positioned himself above her neck, opening his mouth, his long teeth protruding forth, his face now showing his true nature. As he moved in for the kill, the young woman's eyes fluttered opened and the first thing she saw was his face as he closed on her neck. He had wanted that to happen, wanted his face to be the last thing she saw before she died. She did not have time to manage a scream before his sharp teeth dug into her flesh.  
  
Drinking deeply, the perfect taste of her blood invigorated him. The young woman struggled at first but he was far too strong for her and her useless struggle ceased as he continued to drain the life from her veins. He drained enough and her body went limp. Following his instructions, he left just enough inside of her to carry out the last order he had been given before being sent on this mission. Removing his teeth from her neck, he pulled a long dagger, shining silver dagger with a gold, gem encrusted handle from his coat.  
  
Muttering an ancient passage that had been passed down amongst vampires throughout the dark ages, he drove the dagger into the chest of the woman, slicing through skin, muscles and bones. His hand plunged in, seconds later pulling the bloody heart of the woman from her body. He licked the blood from the knife before replacing it in his coat and walking towards the wall. He silently completed his task and left through the still open door, closing the crack behind him.  
He made his way out through the shadows, following roughly the same path he had used to enter, approaching a door on the lower level. As he delicately worked to pick the lock without setting off any security devices, he felt a sudden threat upon him. A subtle sound of boots tapping against the concrete floor approached him, growing louder with each successive step. Listening to the sounds and feeling the subtle vibrations in the floor as the person drew closer from the darkness, he could feel one thing, that whoever this person was, they were afraid, he could almost smell the fear as the person continued to approach.  
  
Suddenly, a light from the blackness struck out upon him. He could clearly see the figure approaching him, unsteadily holding a large flashlight in his left hand. The light did not faze him; he stood, staring down the approaching guard, attempting to capitalize on the fear present in the man's face. He rose to his full stature, locking eyes with the shaky guard, who did nothing but stand several feet from the intruder, flashlight shaking in his hands. Slowly walking towards the middle-aged man, the vampire grinned.  
  
"Don't move," the guard ordered without a shred of confidence in his voice, fear showing in great quantities. His right hand dropped to the baton hanging from his belt as he continued to issue orders to the unwavering figure in front of him. "Get your hands up!"  
  
Pretending to comply with the commands, he slowly raised his hands above his head, causing the guard to slowly advance on him, preparing to restrain the intruder. The shroud of compliance then ended. The vampire sprang forth, jumping on and tackling the guard, sending his flashlight rolling across the ground with a loud noise as the metal object impacted against the concrete floor.  
  
The vampire landed a series of punches on the body of the defenseless human. His fists first impacted against the man's stomach and chest, driving the air from his lungs, taking away his will and ability to struggle. The next ten blows crashed against his face, the bitter taste of blood filling the guard's mouth. As he felt the man pass out beneath him, the vampire could not restrain himself, despite the orders he had been given. Giving in to the overwhelming instincts calling to him, he drove his teeth into the man's neck, drinking deeply from him.   
  
He stood after draining the guard, licking the remnants of the man's life from his lips. Leaving the lifeless body where it lay, he returned to working on the door. It took mere seconds to finish bypassing the lock on the door. Once he had passed through it, he quickly returned to his place of hiding. They would not be able to find him in this place. All he now had to do was wait for tomorrow night, the night when he would have the greatest honor of all, the night when he would taste the blood of the Slayer.  
  
***  
  
"So we keep telling him to come inside but Jeff just keeps babbling on and on about how he can fly, waving this bottle of champagne around, spilling it all over everybody when he just passes out, falling over the balcony, three stories into the pool," Robert Bloodworth concluded his story, smacking one of his hands against the other to emphasize the last point. "Three of us jumped in to pull him out and, I'll be damned, if he didn't get right back up there, babbling about how that was just a test flight." He could not help but laugh slightly, remembering his less than responsible days in college, thinking that it seemed so long ago.  
  
Faith, who had been listening to his story with interest, could not restrain a slight laugh of her own, a beautiful yet subdued smile finding its way to the face of the young woman. Since he had told her one, months before, Faith found she enjoyed hearing his stories from high school, college and other times throughout his life. She had never shared with him the details of her life as the Slayer or even the fact that she was the Slayer, preferring to leave him out of that chapter of her life. Hearing his stories, allowed her, in some small way, to experience the normal life she was never able to have. Even before becoming the Slayer, her life had been anything but the portrait of normal.  
  
Robert did not see any special meaning to the stories or any real need for retelling them, aside from that his heart froze every time Faith smiled or laughed and that was reason enough. During the past eight months, the two of them had gotten to know each other very well, Robert spending almost all of his downtime at work sitting behind her cell, talking with the young woman. Their talks were usually casual, Faith seeming to have difficulty opening up to someone else about her past or what she called the "real reasons" she was in this circumstance, saying that Robert couldn't understand what she had been through. She had told him bits and pieces but he knew he was missing key parts to the puzzle that was her life.  
  
"Hey, I forgot to congratulate you," Faith was quick to change the subject, knowing Robert's pattern of trying to get her to reveal more than she was ready to after telling her an amusing fraternity story. She glanced at the freshly sewn white sergeant's stripes on the sleeves of his blue uniform.  
  
"Yeah," Robert almost blushed. Though Warden Black had a sound reason for the decision behind his promotion, he could not help but feel there were some ulterior motives behind it. "I guess that's my reward." Robert commented, in reference to his defusing of a hostage situation in the prison one-month prior without the need for physical force to be used and with everyone involved coming out unharmed.  
  
"Or Black realizing she only has four months left to get rid of you," Faith had the distinct ability to always see the negative possible explanations for every situation. "Making you a supervisor just gives her a better excuse to closer scrutinize your actions."  
  
"Responsibility isn't a curse Faith," Robert countered. He saw his promotion as the real chance to prove himself. He could admit that Faith was probably right about the warden's intentions but he knew that it would be to his benefit in the end.  
  
"Yeah," Faith's mood noticeably changed, Robert instantly picked up that he had struck some cord with the young woman, something in the past she refused to discuss with him. "Well, I guess that depends on how you use that responsibility and what that responsibility does to you." A sea of memories she had fought long to forget came flooding back to her. "Having responsibility also means you have power and power can corrupt." She fought to hold back her emotions and to not tell Robert more than he needed to know. She knew he would have her tell him everything but could not burden him with the sins of her past.  
  
"And what responsibility did you have Faith?" His voice soft and soothing, Robert decided once again to press for answers from her. "What power corrupted you into this person that you hate?" He displayed the qualities of a perfect interrogator but there was much more to it than that.   
  
Faith could see more and more with each day that he was losing the detachment normally displayed from guards with prisoners, that he was caring for her more than he should. She hated it, that someone could care so much for her when he could never understand her. At the same time, he brought a strange comfort to her. She considered, everyday, that she never told him about her past not because she didn't want to trouble him but because she didn't want him to judge her. She wondered how he could ever care for her if he knew the truth.  
  
"I, uh," Faith hesitated, reluctant to repeat her usual answer on the subject. "You," Robert cut her off, finishing the sentence for her.  
  
"Wouldn't understand," he was frustrated. Though he had fully anticipated that answer, something in her face moments before had told him she wanted to share, hence why he had again pressed for the information. "Well why don't you try me Faith? Prove to me that I can't contemplate these deep, dark secrets from your past."  
  
"I told you I can't talk about it," Faith paced back and forth, as much as the small isolation cell would allow. She was desperate to change the topic. Robert had always accepted her not wanting to speak of her past before now. "Why are you so damned insistent anyways?" She attempted to turn the tables on him. "Why is it so important to you."  
  
"Because I want to understand Faith," his tone remained cool and collected, not rising to the level hers had reached, bordering on anger. "I want to understand what makes you into this strangely amazing person who I can't help but gravitate towards. I want to understand what makes you hate yourself."  
  
"You know me Robert," Faith continued to argue. "You know who I am now, you know who I want to be, why do you have to know who I was?"  
  
"To help me understand you better. To help me understand who you are, what made you into the person you are now and why you want to change. Maybe to help me understand why I," Robert hesitated, the word poised on the tip of his tongue but unable to be released. "Why I care about you as much as I do," he settled on that choice of words, knowing what he had wanted to say could never be said.  
  
Faith felt the sincerity from him. She considered perhaps, maybe he would understand, maybe he would recognize she had changed if told about what she had done. No, she could not let the actions in her past cost her another friend, another person so close to her. "Robert, what I did in my past, cost me more than you can ever know. It cost the only friends I've ever had and the only home I ever had. All because I thought I was strong enough to handle it on my own." Faith slightly gasped, realizing her fatal mistake too late to do anything to correct it. "And I was wrong," Faith continued, unable to hold back the secrets or the tears any longer. She collapsed against the bars of the cell, Bloodworth standing close by. "And I made all the wrong choices, because I thought I was stronger than everybody and I lost my friends and my home and everything I was."  
  
Robert wanted to take her into his arms, provide some sort of comfort but all he could do was look into her tear stained eyes. "And I hate myself everyday for those choices and I fight with them everyday because I don't want to make those choices again if I ever have the chance to set things right. I don't want to turn back into that person I became."  
He accepted that he actually did not know anything more than before but seeing how simply speaking of the events in riddles effected her, Robert decided to let the matter rest for the moment, now wanting to help rather than get more from her. "You won't Faith," his soft, reassuring voice was enough to dry her tears as she lifted her head, looking into his eyes. "You might have been wrong about how strong you were then but you're strong enough now. You're strong enough to not take the easy road, to fight for yourself."  
  
Before Faith could speak, the sound of footsteps approaching caused them to breakup the conversation, Faith backing away from the bars, as did Bloodworth. He made up some story, speaking loudly enough to be heard from down the corridor, about wanting to speak with her in reference to a complaint she had filed against another guard on the shift he supervised. Though many knew that the two spent a great deal of time talking, Robert believed at least that their friendship had remained mostly a secret, from those who had any power over him at least.  
  
"Sarge," the guard who approached Bloodworth said in a mournful tone, causing Faith and the sergeant to take special interest in what he was saying, both able to pick up on the distress in his voice. "We got a," the older guard could barely speak. Faith, before Robert realized it wasn't sorrow in his voice but something far stronger, something she had learned to recognize, fear. "You, you, you need to come see, boss," he continued stuttering, keeping his head lowered and barely making eye contact with Bloodworth. "Something has happened, you, you really need to come see."  
  
As Robert turned away from Faith, their eyes locked for a split second, a million words being exchanged in them. She knew something was wrong, worse than the normal problems that usually sprang up in this place. As he silently walked away from the cellblock, the only sound the tapping boots of the two men. Faith lay back down. Not tired or desiring sleep, she pulled her blanket to her neck, suddenly feeling cold.  
  
***  
  
"Officer operating the picket noticed an open door and sent me and Baccus to check it out," Officer Mills, the one who had found Bloodworth, filled him in on the situation as they entered the common room of unit fifty six. The main lights were on in the room and at least a half dozen other guards from the unit were standing about, two with Polaroid cameras, busily snapping pictures of something on the floor. Flashes were going off every few seconds, telling him that whatever had happened, it was something worth documenting extensively. With officers surrounding whatever it was, Bloodworth was not able to see clearly.  
  
Bloodworth carefully stepped around the huddled group of officers. Aside from the ones taking pictures, they were doing nothing but standing and gazing at whatever was on the floor. The ones he could see had ill looks about their faces, looks that told him they had never seen anything like this before and had never wanted to. As he stepped around, behind one of the officer with cameras, he understood why.  
  
Having had the opportunity to observe members of the Los Angeles police conducting their duties, Robert Bloodworth had seen bodies before and, in many ways, this one looked no different than any other. He knew the man, Officer Timothy Steele, a forty year old, six-year veteran of the prison who always performed his job adequately, with no demerits or distinctions. He was the type Robert always figured would continue like that for several years before quietly retiring. It seemed his ability to tell the future was somewhat flawed.  
  
Taking charge of the situation, he waved the picture takers off and knelt down next to the body as Mills continued bringing him up to speed. "We found him here," Bloodworth was obviously more interested in examining the body than listening to Mills but he continued to deliver the information. "We've already notified the LA Sheriff's Office and Warden Black, both are on their way here."  
  
As he ran his eyes up and down the body, it was not the obvious signs of a physical attack that garnered his interest but the two unusual marks on his neck which a trail of dried blood led to. He could not associate the marks with any type of weapon he was familiar with and he considered it highly unlikely the death was the result of some animal attack. Besides, the marks seemed far too precise to have been the work of a vicious beast.  
  
"You got a picture of that?" Bloodworth asked one of the cameramen, gesturing to the neck. He was handed one of the photos, quickly reviewing it to make sure the object was clear and then stuffing it inside his shirt pocket. He wanted to be able to review that mark in his own time, after the swarms of detectives descended upon the prison to investigate the death. As he stood, having seen enough of the body close up, he doubted they would come up with many more answers than he already had.  
  
"After we found him," Mills continued, turning away from the body and looking to the open door of one of the connecting housing units. "We started to move all the offenders off this unit," the two resumed walking, Bloodworth noting that all the overhead lights in the housing area were also fully illuminated, a rarity for this time of night. Another group of officer stood just pas the doorway to the room, yellow barrier tape partly blocking the entrance. "That's when we found the worst of it."  
  
Robert ducked under one length of the barrier tape, lifting it above his head with an extended hand. Five other officer stood in the room, two also taking pictures, one of the wall Bloodworth had his back turned towards and the other of something on one of the upper bunks. Disregarding whatever was of interest on the pale colored wall behind him, he moved immediately to the blue metal bunk.  
  
The faces of the officer surrounding the bunk as he approached betrayed to a degree what he would soon see for himself. Unlike those officers who surrounded their fallen comrade in the hall, these faces did not display sorrow or fury but one thing, horror. Placing his hands on the shoulders of two guards standing close together and parting them so he could slip through, he came face to face with the origin of that horror.  
  
Lying upon the bunk, the mutilated body of a young blonde woman, dressed in the standard dark colored prison guard, or at least the remnants of it. He recognized her, Natalie Williams, a woman in her late twenties who had made one too many free trips to a department store. Not normally an offense that would garner being placed in maximum security but her last offense was marked by two security guards with two broken noses. As far as behavior went however, she was a model of perfection. Always quiet, reserved and polite, she seemed content to pay her debt to society without making any enemies or falling in with groups whose activities would only lead to her earning an increased sentence. Bloodworth remembered that she always kept to herself, thinking of only one person he had ever seen her spend much time with.  
  
Bloodworth fought with all strength to keep from gasping at the horrendous sight in front of him. As the superior officer present, he had to set an example of serenity for the other officers, even those who had previously seen such things, for they would be looking to him for guidance and composure in equal measure. He knew he could not afford any sort of a response other than to remain collected and do his job.  
  
The sergeant, always an acute observer, was quick to notice the same peculiar marks from the dead officer were also present upon her neck, indicating that these two incidents were clearly linked. Unlike the first body however, the strange marks did not account for the worst of the injuries. Her chest had been cut open, delicately from position and length of the cuts. Though it would be a deadly injury, he knew that the marks were the real cause of death and that the damage to the chest had been done for another purpose entirely.  
  
Aside from the obvious cause of death and mutilation, Robert could discern two other, less obvious details from the body and the scene surrounding it. Blood splattered upon the walls and floors surrounding the bunk as well as across the body told him the killer had enjoyed his work. He had no doubt the homicide investigators who would be arriving shortly would determine the blood splatters originated with a blade being jammed through her chest. Though the cuts were precise, he had no doubt the killer pored every ounce of strength into each stab of the knife.  
  
The second detail came in the still open eyes of the dead woman and from her face as a whole. Life was gone from her, but her emotions from the second it was lost were captured upon her face. She had been frightened. She had seen her killer, seconds before the end and whatever she had seen, had scared her and it was a different type of fear from simply knowing she was about to die. It was the kind of fear Robert could only describe as what one would feel like if they stared into the face of pure evil, realizing it for what it truly was. That, above anything else, was what really scared him about this crime, more than the gruesome physical violence displayed by the killer.  
  
Taking several steps back, he motioned for the photographer. "Close up picture of the neck," he ordered, holding one of his hands out, stuffing the picture with the first in his pocket, wanting to have both of them for his private review. He then turned to Mills. They had done all they could for now, knowing they were not trained for this kind of work. "Get everyone out of here, seal off the area until detectives from the county arrive." Turning away from the bunk, he noticed, for the first time, the wall that he had neglected until now but was clearly another piece to this bizarre puzzle.  
  
Slowly, he walked towards it, his composure completely failing at the horrific sight in front of him. Sprawled across the walls in large letters, each the size of a man, in the dark crimson color of blood, was the words: 'Tomorrow night, you are next Slayer!' the exclamation pointed dotted with what was unmistakably a human heart. Seeing his reaction, the photographer did not even ask before handing the sergeant a picture of the full sentence. Bloodworth put the picture with the others, all the while not taking his eyes away from the wall.  
  
Suddenly, everything began to make sense. Not to say that he had any answers, for he had no idea the motive behind these murders or the identity of the killer. He remembered something Warden Black had told him the day he was hired to work at the prison. It had seemed so trivial to him then, remembering he thought the warden did not know what she was talking about. Now it seemed to be a critical piece of a puzzle. He had to talk to Faith.  
  
***  
  
"Nat's dead?" Faith did not want to believe what Robert had just told her. For all the people who had been mean, suspicious and even hostile to her during her incarceration, Natalie had been the one nice person. The one who had been friendly, non-judgmental and the one Faith could talk, aside from Robert, without constantly worrying about saying something wrong that could earn her yet another enemy.  
  
"I'm sorry Faith," Robert's sentiment was distant. Though Faith deserved to know about her friend, that was not reason he had come to see her, he needed information, information he thought she might have.  
  
Faith tried to shrug it off. She felt like death shouldn't bother her, not after everything she had done. Still, there was a sharp pain deep inside of her, a pain she could not remember having felt for a long time. "Hey, we all gotta go sometime right?" She nochelantly commented, trying to make it look like the news did not bother or affect her in any way.  
  
Robert, fatigued from almost a full twelve hours of work during the night and morning hours and still shaken from what he had seen mere moments before, decided to get to the subject in the quickest possible manner. "She wasn't the only one," his voice was still cold, a telltale sign to Faith that something was wrong. Usually when they talked, even when he was angry or frustrated, she felt a certain, unwavering warmth in his voice that was now absent. "One of my guards was also killed, same killer I think."  
  
"And what makes you say that?" Faith asked, leaning against the bars. She knew him well enough to know he was leading to something with his comments and decided to spur him along.  
  
Robert reached into his shirt pocket, pulling two photos from it, those of the marks on the necks of the two victims. He tossed them towards Faith, her reflexes reacting quickly, reaching out slightly from the bars and closing her fingers around them. She slid the pictures between her fingers, so both would be visible and brought her hand towards her face. For a moment, she could not speak; barely think as memories came flooding back to her. They had killed her friend, one of the few people left in the world who actually cared about her and they had savagely killed her.  
  
By the look on her face, Robert knew Faith had seen those marks before. It was not a stunned silence that had overtaken her but one of anger. He took advantage of this and continued to press. "You know, I remember, right before you and I met, Warden Black telling me that she had some people call you a 'Slayer'," Faith's head and gaze furiously shot away from the pictures in her hand and fell upon Robert, indicating to him that he had struck yet another point of her past and convincing him that the killer was, without doubt, interested in her next.   
  
"I didn't really think much of it then," he did not allow her opportunity to give him some clever line to cover up whatever the truth behind the matter was. "Actually I thought Warden Black was rather ignorant for thinking it was some kind of LA street gang without knowing anything about the subject. For some reason though, it always stuck with me, in the back of my head."   
  
Without warning, he pulled the third picture from his pocket, tossing it towards her. She did not react, allowing the picture to fall onto her bunk. Glancing it at from the corner of her eye, she saw the grizzly content. The vampire had come for her, killing Natalie just as part of its little game. The guard wasn't likely part of the plan; he was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, getting in the vamp's way.  
  
"You have to let me out of here," Faith managed. She did not have time to try explaining what had happened, she only hoped Robert would trust her. She had to find the vampire that did this, if he wanted a fight with her, she would give him one.  
  
"Excuse me!" Robert shot back. He was not in the mood for indulging Faith's little mysteries. "Faith, two people are dead. You know something about the motive or about the killer, either way it's something I need to know." He took two steps closer to the bars, gazing into her troubled eyes. "Tell me what you know and we'll use it to stop whatever did this."  
  
Faith shook her head and grinned, finding some twisted humor in exactly how improbable Robert's comment had been. "This isn't some killer you can just go arrest and lock away Robbie, I wish it was. You're right though it is coming for me and I have to stop it," her voice, soft, was filling with conviction. Robert believed what she was saying, though he needed to do more than just believe her at this point, he needed to understand.  
  
"What is it Faith?" Robert insisted. "You know I just can't let you out of this cell, free to wander around the prison waiting for something to attack you. You have to tell me who," he considered a new possibility. "Or what is doing this. Then we can stop it, we can protect you."  
  
"You can't protect me from it," Faith scoffed. Robert did not understand that she wasn't like other women. She did not need to be protected by anyone; she could do it on her own. One vampire alone would not be a match for her; she needed to make Robert see that, convince him to give her the chance to fight the beast without telling him too much. "I don't need to be protected from it, I just need you to let me out of this cage so I can fight it." Her emotions flared, gripping the bars in front of her, thinking she could simply bend them apart.  
  
"Faith, I want to help you, I want to believe you but you're not giving me much to work with here." Robert was frustrated. Her secrets had always bothered him in the past but never had he been in a situation where her keeping secrets could cost lives. "Tell me what this is," in a fit, Faith turned away from the bars and stormed back into the small cell. "You owe me that much Faith, if you expect me to let you out of here. Tell me what who killed those people and tell me why they want you." He sighed, as she kept her back to him. "Tell me who you are Faith," his voice shifted from heated to serene with his last request.  
  
She looked at him over her shoulder. "You know who I am Robert," she played the card of their eight month friendship, hoping it would be enough. She could not endanger him by allowing him to become to involved and could not lose him by telling him the truth.  
  
Robert reached through the bars, picking the three discarded pictures off her bunk, placing the two of the marks back in his pocket while taking another look at the writing. "Do I Faith?" He focused on the word 'Slayer', knowing that was the real link he did not understand. "You've told me about growing up in Boston, even a little bit about how you wound up in here but I don't think I know you." He tapped the picture with his index finger. "I think this is who you are and you're afraid to talk about what it means because you're afraid to face it."  
  
"It ruined my life," Faith choked. Had she not been the Slayer, everything would have been different. She would never have come to California, she would never have killed people, never have hurt her friends; never have ended up in this place.  
  
"But it's part of who you are, a part that I want to understand if you'll let me."  
  
"I'm the Slayer," Faith admitted, she knew there would be no getting around telling him the truth now, if she wanted to have a chance to stop any more killing. "I'm not like other people. I'm stronger and faster. What killed those two people was a vampire," Robert raised an eyebrow in disbelief as Faith continued. "I was called, years ago to fight them. It was something I took for granted, something that led me down the wrong path and cost me everything. I've changed or I think I have. Let me fight it, please."  
  
There was sincerity in her voice; Robert believed that she at least thought what she was saying was the truth. It sounded absurd to him, less like truth and more like something out of a cheap monster movie. "You expect me to believe a story like that Faith?" He thought, after eight months, she would give him more credit than that. "I want to help you but I can't if you don't tell me the truth."  
  
"I am damn it!" She flew towards, the bars, wrapping her hands around them, suppressing the urge to go for his neck, knowing it would do nothing for her. "This isn't something I would just make up, trust me I could come up with something a hell of a lot more buyable if I was in to making up stories." She eased off the bars and off her defensive. "It's the truth, the straight up, twisted, b-movie truth."  
  
Robert's eyes looked down. It seemed that their friendship wasn't all he thought it was. "Whatever Faith," frustrated, fatigued and hurt, he stormed out of the walkway, securing the door at the end behind him. Faith breathed deeply, anger building inside of her. After everything, when she finally had the will to tell him the truth, he did not believe her. She was left sitting in a cell when she had the chance to start righting some of her wrongs, a chance to stop a killer. There was a chance for her to do, for good, the one thing she knew how to do well and she couldn't do it.  
  
In a fury, she slammed her fist into the metal wall, creating a fist shaped impression in the cold, gray steel. Her hand did not hurt. In fact, she felt stronger than she had in a long time, letting anger take control of her. Taking several deep breaths, she relaxed, knowing that anger would get her nowhere. Laying down on her bunk, stretching her legs, she knew there was nothing to be done aside from wait and hope Robert would chose to put his faith in her.  
  
As the sun began to shine through the one small window in the cell, she heard the distinctive sound of a key being inserted into the lock on her door. She swung her legs off the bunk, sitting up and looking to the door. When a figure appeared in it, she knew it was not Robert and felt a threat upon her. A blinding pain struck her eyes, she was no stranger to having pepper spray used against her in the prison but it always served to briefly distract her.  
  
A team of five guards rushed inside, clad from head to toe in black riot gear. The first carried a large, clear plastic shield with the word 'Corrections' printed in black letters across the front. The next carried a canister of oleoresin capsicum, better known as pepper spray, he fired another burst into Faith's face as the Slayer attempted to shield her eyes with her hands. The final three members of the team, carrying long wooden batons advanced on her as the one with the shield used it to pin her against the bunk. Two of the guards carrying batons slipped the weapon in front of her elbows and attempted to use the batons to pry her arms behind her back, attempting secure her hands with cuffs.  
Faith was used to pain however and was strong enough to overcome it. Pushing with her feet, she threw the guard with the shield off of her, sending him flying into the adjacent metal wall. Pivoting off the batons wedged in front of her elbows, she flipped behind the two guards and stood on the bunk, grabbing the baton from one and slapping the pair of handcuffs onto one of each of their hands as she kicked them to the floor.  
  
The remaining guards advanced on her, one firing another burst of spray into her eyes, this time not fazing the Slayer. The last guard armed with the baton quickly closed, taking a swing at her knees but Faith was too quick. She jumped, dodging the baton and landing a kick on the faceplate of the guard's helmet, sending him flying into the wall, landing on top of the other guard. She jumped down, closing on the remaining guard as he continued to fire bursts of spray into her unshielded face. The pain was strong but the Slayer did not stop. With a quick swing of the baton, she knocked the canister from his hand. In a successive movement, she brought the weapon back around, knocking his feet out from under him.  
  
She looked around the cell, the group of knocked down guards, trying to determine what sort of game Warden Black was playing now, sending an extraction team after her. More than likely, she twisted the murders in her mind to somehow place the blame more on Faith and less on the actual murderer. Black was always looking for an excuse to hurt her. When she heard the sounds of more footsteps approaching, she looked towards the door, realizing that Black was smarter than to send just one goon squad after her.  
  
A cylindrical object rolled into the cell. With a spark, a white cloud began poring from it, Faith coughing as the gas filled the cell. Another team of riot gear clad guards rushed inside, these wearing gas masks in addition to their helmets. Taking advantage of her momentary distraction, they struck her knees with their batons. She fell violently to the ground, several guards piling on top of her. Unlike the previous ones, they were not trying to control her, merely hold her in place. Seconds after the guards attacked her, she felt a sharp pain in her back, electricity coursing through her body.  
  
Her muscles went limp as her strength faded under the torture of the stun gun pressed against her spine. The guards still did not let up however. Scanning as much as she could see of the entrance from the ground, she saw another figure appear. A woman, dressed in white clothing that Faith recognized as one of the prison's medical personnel. She approached slowly, carrying a needle in one hand. She flicked the base of the syringe with her finger, pressing on the bottom of it, causing some of the golden fluid to shoot out of the point.  
  
Giving her another burst from the stun gun, the guards held her arms tightly, pulling it out from under her. The woman violently pushed the needle into her upper arm, injecting the full contents of the syringe into her body. Suddenly, she felt weak. It was not the effects of the stun gun; those wore off quickly and were fightable. This was something much more powerful. She barely felt the second needle lunge into her other arm, a second dose of the liquid being emptied into her body.  
  
Darkness began to fall over her, the last thing she saw before her eyelids collapsed was Warden Black in the doorway, a pleased, almost evil smile on her face. "I told you young lady, you are a troublemaker and we must deal with troublemakers." Faith succumbed.  
  
***  
  
Robert Bloodworth, despite being overly fatigued from a twelve-hour nightshift and his confrontation with Faith, did not sleep that day. He tried to sleep but despite his lack of energy, he could not do so, could not even close his eyes. His last conversation with Faith echoed in his mind. She deeply believed what she had told him, despite the lunacy of the whole thing.  
  
Toiling about his apartment, first running on the treadmill then lifting weights, finally going several rounds with a punching bag, he wanted to believe Faith. The story was too far out there, vampires, a mystical battle between good and evil, stuff like that did not happen in the real world. Sitting down at his computer, he opened his mind. If there was any way she was telling the truth he would find it.  
  
Using a password of his father's he was not supposed to have, he meticulously scanned case files of the Los Angeles Police Department, particularly those relating to unsolved murders or deaths. The three pictures he had saved propped up in front of his monitor, he read through dozens of reports about bodies with the same unusual marks on them. He remembered watching horror movies as a child where vampires bit the necks of their victims. Circumstantial evidence aside, he still could not believe such things were real.  
  
Still searching the Internet, he plugged in the word 'Slayer'. He read through dozens of web sites, all of which seemed to be something of a plug for a movie. Unconfirmed stories and eyewitness accounts of women endowed with supernatural power to fight vampires. It was ridiculous, the idea that vampires, creatures from fiction, walked the earth with only a single woman to oppose them. That was the problem with the Internet, he reminded himself, it allowed every idiot with a keyboard and mouse to communicate nonsense to the entire world.  
  
Having had his fill of the computer, he lay back down on his bed. An entire day had passed by with him barely noticing. He would have to leave for work soon. Stepping into a hot shower, the water pounding away the ache from his muscles but leaving the fatigue in his body and the clouds in his mind. Evidence aside, it all came down to one decision he would have to force himself to make, the decision to put his trust in Faith or in common sense.  
  
Placing his uniform on, replaying the last eight months, every conversation with Faith in his mind, he made his decision. Stepping into his walk-in closet, he opened a chest. Having a father who was the police chief had certain advantages and if he was going to let Faith fight something, he for damned sure wasn't going to let her do it alone. He pulled two long, curved blade daggers, gifts from his father, from the trunk, setting them inside the duffel bag he usually carried personal items to work in.  
  
The drive from the prison to his apartment took approximately thirty minutes, having learned back roads that allowed him to bypass most of the city traffic. He was quickly allowed through the security gates and parked his car in the normal space. The walk to unit 56 took only another minute's time. He stowed his personal belongings, relieved the sergeant on duty prior to him and decided to waste no more time.  
  
Walking down the corridor to Faith's cell, he immediately knew something was no right. From the opposite end of the hall, he could see the door to her cell was open and feared he may have already been too late. Rushing to the open door, he attempted to prepare himself for what might have been inside but saw only emptiness.  
  
"They moved her today," Officer Mills, who Robert had not noticed before, said from behind him. "I just got the word, the Warden was going to have her placed in protective custody because of that note on the wall but she attacked the guards who tried to move her so they've got her restrained."  
  
Without saying anything, Bloodworth bolted down the corridor, making his way through dozens of them before he arrived in the violent cell area, where offenders who proved to be a danger to themselves or others could be locked away in a padded room, strapped to a bed or chair so they could not be a danger. Through a small window on the door to the cell, he could see her, arms, legs, chest and neck, tightly strapped to a chair. She looked barely conscious, her head only being held by the strap around her neck and her eyes glazed over.  
  
"I'm sorry," he whispered, trying to formulate a plan of action in his mind. It would raise too many questions if he, contradicting the warden's instructions, ordered her released. Still, he had to get her out of there. Night would be falling soon. He went to his locker, retrieving the two daggers from his bag and concealing them on the inside of his duty jacket.  
  
Stealthily, so that no other officers would see him, he went to one of the main housing units, set off a panic alarm and escaped unnoticed. Sirens rang throughout the unit as every guard descended upon the unit, giving him the time he needed. Going back to the violent cell wing, he slid the oversized metal key into the lock on the door to Faith's cell. The room was dark, filled with shadows; the only light a small lap dangling above the young woman's head.  
  
"Faith," he attempted to gain her attention, placing his hands on her head, forcing her to look at him. "Faith, do you hear me?" Looking over her limp body, he noticed a small puncture mark on each of her arms; she clearly had been drugged by something. For some reason, he doubted the story he was told that Faith actually attacked the guards first.  
  
"Robbie," she managed, looking into his eyes, some semblance of life returning to her comatose face. "I," she did not know what was happening, did not know what to say. The last thing she remembered was seeing the needle after the guards had taken her to the ground.  
  
"Can you move?" He did not want to waste anytime. He had pulled another key from his belt and was busily unlocking the restraints on her legs.  
  
She nodded. "Once you get these off of me, sure," she felt some of her energy returning though she was still weak.  
  
Robert smiled; glad to see some of the Faith he was used to coming back. He finished unlocking her legs and moved on to the restraint around her neck. "What happened?" He asked, ready to believe her side of the story over the warden's, given to him by Mills.  
  
She tried to recall, everything in her memory of it was blurry. "I was, just lying there, after you left and one of the goon squads came in after me. I," she hesitated, realizing for the first time what she had really done. "Lost control. Took 'em out." Though it was not something he wanted to hear, Robert least pleased that Faith was not the aggressor in the situation. "The second one took me down, injected me with something. Guess it had me a little loopy for a while."   
  
She watched him unhooking the restraint on her chest and looked at his face. It was not the same as when he had left this morning. He had been uncertain then but now, all uncertainty had vanished from his eyes. "And what about you?" She knew he would understand her point, wanting to know what made him decide to trust her.  
  
"Look Faith, the whole vampire, Slayer things still seems a little out there to me," he explained, still struggling with the lock, these were not made to be easily removed. "But, I trust you and if that's what you believe, then that's what I'm going to try and make myself believe." He undid the lock, moving next to the ones binding her elbows to the arms of the chair. "And whatever is here to kill you, we'll fight it together." He removed the restraints from her elbows and inserted the key into one of the locks on her hands.  
  
"Robert," Faith began to protest. "I can't ask you to," she saw something coming from the shadows behind him. "Duck!" He moved to slowly, the full weight of the vampire, pored into a shoulder rush slammed against him, throwing him into the padded wall on the other side of the cell. The beast then paid him no heed, instead staring into the eyes of the Slayer. He looked her over, she seemed so frail, so helpless but he knew such great power coursed through her veins. Power he would soon taste.  
  
Faith delicately bent her fingers, reaching for the key that was still in the lock. If she could free her arms, she would have a chance. The vampire did not seem keen on giving her that chance as he bent down, opening his mouth, exposing his fangs and inching towards her neck. "What, no classy pre-kill banter?" Faith attempted to buy herself the few seconds she needed to remove the restraint.  
  
The vampire pulled away from her neck, looked into her eyes and grinned. "Die," he hissed.  
  
"Better," Faith admitted with a shift of her head, hoping he would have gone into some long lecture about the greatness of his race and the weakness of hers but settling for the extra second it gave her. The vampire again closing on her neck, she finally grasped the key between two fingers, trying to turn it. Just as the lock popped open, the vampire growled and pulled away from her. As she began unlocking her other hand, she noticed a dagger driven into his hip and Robert lying beside the restraint chair.  
  
Freeing her other hand, Faith launched a counteroffensive on the vampire who had just pulled the blade from his leg, licking the blood from it and stashing it inside his black overcoat. She spun at the creature, striking him with both of her fists, before springing into a roundhouse kick, striking him in the chest, sending him into the wall. Adrenaline surging in her veins, she felt her Slayer strength returning. "What's the matter?" She assumed a defensive stance as the vampire struggled back to his feet. "Not tied up enough for ya?"  
  
The demonic creature surged forward, keeping low to the ground in a repeat of the maneuver he used on Robert. Faith was prepared. As the beast neared her, she brought her knee up and into its face, breaking the charge, the creature falling to the ground. She jumped, bringing her elbow down upon its back as she landed on her own. Both were back on their feet at the same moment.  
  
From the floor, Robert watched as the battle continued. In an instant he realized that she had been telling him the truth and many things about Faith suddenly began to make a great deal more sense. The vampire attacked, his fists moving with blinding speed, Faith effortlessly blocking punch after punch with her arms. When the vampire forced her against the wall, her defensive ended. As the creature threw another series of punches, she ducked, his fists hitting the wall and hers landing into his stomach. He snarled as she brought an elbow up, slamming it into his jaw, causing him to fall back.  
  
Faith continued her attack kicking the vampire twice in the face, both blows marked by bone snapping sounds. The creature continued to fall back, weakened by the beating given to him by the Slayer. "Let me guess," Faith spun at her waste, striking the creature across the face with a closed fist. "You guys haven't been training in the off season?" She kicked at him again but this time he was prepared. He grabbed her foot in both hands, twisting her leg, sending her to the ground as he released his hold. She was back on her feet in seconds, before he could capitalize on his momentary advantage and he knew this fight was hers but committed himself to surviving for another.  
  
The vampire sprinted for the door, Faith quick in pursuit but he was too quick. Buying himself the seconds he needed to escape, he slammed the metal door in the Slayer's face, sending her to the ground. By the time she was back on her feet and through the door, the creature was nowhere to be seen. She conceded that the fight was hers; there was no point in allowing herself to become angered at the vampire's escape. Anger was what had gotten her into the problems she was in. She looked up and down the corridor, seeing no trace of vamp.  
  
Robert appeared behind her, apparently not badly injured by his brief encounter with the vamp. Feeling his presence, she relaxed her guard and turned towards him, still breathing hard from the battle. "Believe me now?"  
  
"I think that's pretty compelling evidence."  
  
"You all right," she said, placing a gentle hand on his chest where the vampire had struck him, almost recoiling when she realized this was the first time either of them had actually touched the other.  
  
Robert did nothing to discourage the contact. "Fine," he said. "I mean, at least I know what a tackling dummy feels like now." Any other time, Faith would have laughed at the comment, but not now, not with that thing still roaming free.  
"It couldn't have gotten far," Faith tried to take off down the corridor but Robert placed a hand on her shoulder, holding her back. The only thing on her mind was finding and killing the vampire, which Robert had no problem with but he had to consider the logistics of it as well.  
  
"Remember Faith, you're still supposed to be locked up here. Not going to look right to any guard that sees you just wandering around, especially if I'm right behind you."  
  
"Plan?" She raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to elaborate, if he had a plan of course. The sergeant went to a nearby vacant office, used mostly for observing the violent cells but currently empty thanks to the false emergency he had created. As he dialed a phone, Faith stepped inside, surveying the room for anything she could potentially use as a weapon against the vamp.  
  
"This is Bloodworth," Robert said into the receiver. "Move everybody off and seal off this unit, I'll be taking a team through to search for contraband, I'll advise you by radio when you can move everybody back on." There was silence as the person on the other end of the conversation was speaking. "No, I don't need anymore people, I want most of the guards out with the offenders anyways, you all just sit tight while we get the job done." He placed the phone back on the cradle in enough time to see Faith kick the leg of a wooden table in half, picking up one of the sharp halves.  
  
"Dead vamp maker," she said, holding it up.  
  
Robert approached her, reached into his jacket and pulled out the second sheathed dagger, handing it to her. "I think you can probably use this better than I can." Faith pulled the dagger from the black leather sheath. As she stared at it, in the shining metal blade, she saw all the sins of her past flash to her.  
  
"You all right?" Robert asked, seeing the suddenly distressed look upon her face.  
  
"I had one like this once," she remembered the last time she had seen it. "Just like this," she traced her fingers along the edge of the blade. "But this time isn't going to be like the last time." She sheathed the knife, finding a place for it in her dark prison uniform. "This time I'm doing some good with it."  
  
Robert removed his baton from its place on his belt. "You're right, the thing couldn't have gotten far, let's go."  
  
"Robert," she said, this time holding him back. "You don't have to do this."  
  
"Yes I do Faith."   
  
The two set off down the corridor, making their way through the violent cell wing. They searched the main housing areas and the administration area of the unit, both yielding no results. Robert moved cautiously, diligently searching every corner of every room, leaving no stone unturned but he could not compare to Faith. Every aspect of how the young woman conducted her search told Robert that she had been born to do this, from the way her eyes surveyed each new room to the way she stood, her weight perfectly distributed on her feet to allow for maximum mobility. Though it was clear she had received great training, she had a certain, indefinable quality that could not have come from any amount of training.  
After an hour of searching, they stood at the end of another in a long series of vacant corridors, what Robert had said was the last on the unit. Faith was aggravated but her cool composure remained, not allowing herself to give in to anger, knowing it would only serve to make her weak. "What's through there?" She pointed with her makeshift stake to a dark blue door, or originally dark blue, covered in rust at the end of the hall, one Robert had not mentioned.  
  
"Abandoned part of the prison. Used to house people there before the new unit was built. No one uses it anymore so it's kind of fallen into disrepair over the last couple years." He saw a feeble grin come across her face, knowing the Slayer had a plan.  
  
"Perfect," she was already moving towards it. Robert followed, sliding his key inside the rusted metal lock, struggling to turn it. Faith motioned him aside, grasped the key and turned it with ease, the lock creaking. Robert replaced the keys on his belt and followed Faith inside.  
  
They cautiously made their way through the old, dark corridor; Robert illuminated their path with a flashlight. Rusted metal cell doors barely hung from their hinges, cobwebs lined the hall and discarded pieces of furniture, equipment and tools lay about. Completing the picture was the steady dripping sound of water coming from leaky, yet still operable pipes that fueled other parts of the prison. Though she had only spent a short time fighting them, Faith knew vampires and knew one would feel right at home in this place. Dark and secluded, everything the looked for in a home.  
  
It was also everything they looked for in a hunting ground. Faith came to a grinding halt, Robert following her lead. She had not felt it before but could feel it now; they were being hunted. She readied her stake, not knowing where the attack would come from but knowing it was upon them. For a moment, she looked back at Robert who had readied his baton. She cursed herself for allowing him to join this fight, knowing she could only blame herself if anything happened to him.  
  
Without warning, the attack came. From the ceiling above, the vampire fell upon them, knocking Robert to the ground as he landed upon him before the man could react. Taking the seconds advantage allotted to her by the vampire's preemptive strike against Robert, Faith attacked, charging towards him, delivering three quick jabs to the creatures face, knocking him off balance as she delivered a ferocious right cross to his jaw.  
  
The vampire was determined to not allow the Slayer to best him. He had been selected, above many other candidates for this glorious mission and he would not fail his master. With Faith closing, stake ready in hand, he countered her attack with a spin kicking, knocking the deadly weapon from her hand and a second against her face, knocking her to the ground. He pounced, landing atop her, delivering multiple successive punches to her stomach and face before she had time to react. The attacks took the breath from her lungs and the vampire capitalized on this, pinning her arms to the ground.  
Showing his demon face and allowing her to see his teeth a final time, he began moving towards her neck. "And no Slayer," he said, looking at her enraged face a final time. "No classy pre-kill banter." He resumed his course for her neck, ready for his taste of the Slayer. As his teeth were poised at the vein, a baton broke across his back, shattering on impact. The vampire, angered by the attack, smashed his fist again across the face of the Slayer, to prevent her from getting up as he rose to attack Robert.  
  
One half of the baton still in his hand, Robert lunged for the vampire. Punching it twice across the face with his free hand only seemed to anger the creature as it quickly counterattacked, kicking him twice under the chin. Robert did not fall but persisted, punching the vampire several more times in the chest and face. The creature fell back under the quick ferocity of his offensive and he took advantage of the momentary weakness, kicking one of its knees, causing its guard to drop as his balance faltered.  
  
Robert struck the creature through the chest with the point end of the broken baton, believing he had delivered a deathblow. The vampire, stunned at first then looked down at the makeshift stake, pulled it from his chest and tossed it aside. "Missed the heart," he smirked. Before Robert could react, the vampire landed a strong blow against his temple. He fell into the arms of the creature, which held him up and prepared to feed.  
  
"Hey ugly," Faith's voice was accompanied by the sound of a dagger being unsheathed. Both Robert and the demon looked in her direction. The Slayer stood in a defensive stance, dagger drawn, her strength and composure stronger than before. "Thought it was me you wanted." The vampire snarled, tossed Robert aside and slowly reached into his coat, drawing the dagger he had pulled from his leg earlier. Vampire and Slayer slowly advanced on each other.  
  
The two combatants slowly circled each other, daggers drawn, each a coiled serpent ready to strike. The vampire struck first with a mad downward swing at Faith, all his strength in the weapon. She parried, deflecting the blade away and slashing at its open chest. The creature jumped backwards, dodging the blade and parrying her next diagonal slash, locking blades with the Slayer. He threw his weight against hers, throwing her off balance.  
  
Lunging forward, the vampire stabbed for the chest of the off balance Slayer. Faith reacted, knocking his blade aside as she jumped away from its path. She swung her blade down, aiming for the creature's exposed back but he rolled out of the way. She continued her attack, swinging for his neck as the vampire was on his knees following the roll but he again deflected her blade with his own. Using his open hand, he punched her in the stomach, causing her to back off slightly and he rose back to his feet.  
  
Taking a series of swings, up, down, from the side and repeating the pattern, the Slayer deflected each of his attacks with skillful ease. Every opening in the vampire's defense she saw, she stabbed for but he was able to counter in enough time to prevent the Slayer from winning the contest. The battle erupted into a fury of swinging blades, sparks flying from the impacts of metal against metal as each swing from Slayer and vampire became more intense.  
  
Swinging at the Slayer's head, the vampire made a critical mistake. Taking so strong a swing, putting so much of his weight behind it, left him open. Faith sidestepped the dagger, bringing her blade down upon his arm, slicing his hand off. As the creature growled in pain, she kicked his feet out from under him, kicking the shattered piece of baton that lay at her feet into her hand and jumping on top of the creature. Slamming her elbow into his stomach and fist into his face to take what fight there was left out of him, she brought the stake back, preparing to deliver the coup de grâce.  
  
She was stopped, not by any physical defense by the vampire but by the sound of his evil laughter as the creature choked on his own blood. It was disconcerting, something she had never experienced before, a creature laughing when it new its death was at hand. "We may have failed to take you Slayer," the vampire spat at her. "But we will not fail to take the other."  
  
"Other?" Robert, thinking he was getting everything figured out, was no more confused as he heard the vampire's comment.  
  
It continued to laugh, bolstered by the stunned look upon the face of the Slayer, so near to killing him. "We will do to her what we tried to do to you. While she is away, helpless to stop us, we will take from her, her friends, family and everything she cares about. Then, when she is nothing but a broken shell of her former self, we will destroy the Slayer and darkness will reign." Faith finally understood their plan, why they had killed Natalie. "How is that for pre-kill banter?" His laughing grew with intensity, every second until Faith effortlessly drove the stake into his heart. He turned to dust.  
  
She rose to her feet, brushing off her prison uniform and sheathing the dagger. "You have to let me go," Faith approached Robert, pleading with her soft voice and her eyes looking into his. "If they're going after them, if Buffy is away them, I'm the, I'm the only one who can warn them," floods of emotions hitting Faith, she realized she was rambling, probably not making any sense.  
  
"Faith you're not making any sense," suspicion confirmed. "None of this is making any sense. Who is the other, I thought you were the Slayer?"  
  
"There's another Slayer."  
  
"Huh?" He asked with raised eyebrows. Just when he thought he had a grip on this whole Slayer thing, another curveball.  
  
"I don't have time to explain but I have to do something, warn them or help them or, I don't know!" Faith was overcome with frustration, not knowing what she should do or even what she could do. "I just know you have to let me go, let me leave."  
  
"Faith, I trust you, I, I want to help but I just can't let you go."  
  
"Then give me the keys," her voice suddenly became dark. "We can go back to the cell, I can knock you out, they'll believe that I escaped, you won't have to worry about it anymore."  
  
He shook his head. "I'm a part of this Faith, whether you want me to be or not, I'm not going to let you do that." He understood how meaningless the statement was but he hoped the dramatic gesture would get her attention.  
  
"You think you could stop me?" For a second, she considered how easy it would be to knock him out. One or two quick blows would be all she needed. His strength was in no way equal to hers, he wouldn't have a chance of stopping her attack if she launched one.  
  
"No," Robert admitted. Seeing her in action, reading what he had read about Slayers and now believing every word of it, he knew he could not take her in a fight. "But I also know this prison couldn't hold you if you really wanted to get out and I don't think you want to get out that way because I think that'd be stepping down a path you've already spent too much time on and don't want to set foot on again." Faith's eyes conceded defeat. She lowered her head, unable to look at him after considering what she had been.  
  
Robert stepped closer to her, putting his hand under her chin. His touch was soft, comforting, the warmest touch she had felt in a longtime. He delicately guided her head back toward his, gazing into her eyes. "I can get you out of her Faith, it might take a couple days but I can get you out of here and we can go help whoever it is you want to help, together."  
  
"Okay," Faith admitted that, whatever is plan was, it was a better alternative to escaping or faking an escape. She would do anything at this point to get out of this place, only for the few days she would need. She wished Robert would remove himself from the equation after that but admitted that his help could be useful. Whatever got her out of here in enough time to warn Buffy or help protect her friends, she would do. This was perhaps her best chance to begin righting some of the wrongs of her past.  
  
Together, they walked back to the cellblock. Robert secured her in the restraint chair, apologizing for having to do so and promised he would get her out as soon as he could. As the door closed behind him and darkness surrounded her, she only hoped it would be soon enough. She was committed to not fail them again.  
  
***  
  
Three days later, Robert at her side, Faith experienced something she had not in a long time, a breath a free air. The two walked away from the prison, to the parking lot together. When he had supervised her release from custody, Robert told one of the other guards he was going to give her a ride to the bus station, an effective enough cover. For the first time, he was able to look at Faith, now dressed in a pair of tight fitting black jeans, a red, sleeveless v-neck shirt that left nothing to the imagination and a black denim jacket, with a different set of eyes.  
  
"Tell me again how you got an order signed by the governor granting me a temporary furlough?" Robert had still not explained that to her, she had barely just found out about it herself.  
  
"What, I'm not allowed to have my secrets?" He answered playfully.  
  
She shot him an almost deadly look. It was an answer she deserved of course, still not having told him everything but it was not one she appreciated. "If you're going to be like this the whole trip, I think I'll walk," she joked. It felt good to be on the outside again. She felt strong, youthful, playful again.  
  
Robert grinned wryly, opening the passenger door on his red Ford Mustang, closing it behind the Slayer as she stepped inside. He stepped around the car, noticing a smile on her face as she ran her hands across the leather interior. He sat down in the driver's seat, placing his key in the ignition. "My dad and I play poker with his excellency every third Thursday of the month. After a few beers, he doesn't really notice anyone sneaking into his office where he has a stamp with his signature on it."  
  
Faith suddenly realized what Robert had put on the line for her. If anyone ever decided to question it or found out about it, his life would be over. Rather than dwelling on it or thanking him for it, she simply skipped subjects. "So how fast does it go?" She smiled, settling into her seat.  
  
Robert put his sunglasses on, started the car, throwing it into reverse and peeling out of the parking place. Shifting the car into hear, he looked at Faith who still wore the enchanting smile on her face. "Buckle up." He sped away. Faith did not watch the road so much but paid attention to the signs showing the miles remaining until they reached Sunnydale, wondering how her arrival would be received. 


End file.
